Engines & Demons - The Undestined

Chapter 45ii

Lance-master Tzarren finished reading the top sheaf of parchment again, then dropped it onto the table where the merchant's pens were still scattered.

"Fortak damn the man!" he growled.

"What is it?" asked Karek from behind him.

"Orders," said Master Tzarren dismissively. "Orders for Seior SanMartin to open the pay chests and give himself and Dres' staff what they are owed upon the fulfilment of their duties. Their duties being to escort all of the merchant's possessions and assets to Naddaran, where they are to be passed into the full ownership of the Association."

"Is that all?"

"That is all."

Master Tzarren glared balefully down at the body of Merchant Dres, which still sat rigid in its chair, one hand in a death grip still holding its wooden arm, the other cast to the side, clenched so tight, its nails had dug into its palms. The merchant's eyes were rolled up into his head in a vile rictus of pain, his teeth gritted together, and his lips pulled back to reveal gums coated in green tinged spittle. The wound in his neck was almost invisible, and seemed an incongruous cause of death. The thing that had been masquerading as a pen could not have stuck in the merchant's flesh for more than a few seconds before Master Tzarren had pulled it free, but it had stuck there long enough to do its job. It lay on the table now, its lid firmly in place.

Master Tzarren picked it up carefully and studied its intricately enamelled surface.

"What could cause a man to do such a thing as this?"

He had spoken the words to himself, but Karek answered.

"He knew we had him. Maybe he thought this was preferable to dying under the claws and teeth of the Pride."

"Or maybe he had secrets that he wanted to die with him." Master Tzarren placed the pen back onto the table. "Either way, he has left us with unanswered questions. Have you got anything out of Seior SanMartin?"

"Svell has been very helpful with his answers."

"So tell me," said Master Tzarren, leading the way to the tent's entrance. "But outside. This place stinks of death."

The Orders' soldiers were still inside the tent, posted at its inner doorways. The others were in the chambers beyond, standing guard on Merchant Dres' people as they were being questioned, and some remained outside to guard the tent's entrance in Xerekus' place. The creature had submitted to his detention, but had refused to relinquish his swords until Svell SanMartin had calmly spoken with him. Even then it was disinclined to give them into anyone's keeping. Instead, it had thrust them both into the earth at the tent's doorway and threatened that anyone who touched them would die.

When Master Tzarren left the tent with Karek, the two swords were still fixed there in the ground, untouched, their pommels, above the height of even the Lance-master's head, catching the light of the slowly rising sun.

"So what did the good Trade Proctor have to say for himself?" asked Master Tzarren once he had led Karek out of the hearing of the guards, who were all standing conspicuously far away from Xerekus' weapons.

"He claims not to know anything about Commander Kralaford's son, or the attempt to poison Hakansa."

"Of course that is what he claims."

"I believe him, sir."

"Right now I would not trust anyone who has been in the pay of the Merchant Dres, but go on."